


Lunar Tide

by Maur



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 14:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maur/pseuds/Maur
Summary: Sid is a creature of habit, and that's not going to change just because he's a creature of the night.





	Lunar Tide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragons_and_angels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragons_and_angels/gifts).



Sidney woke up with his nose full of familiar scent, and he groaned contentedly and pushed his face into the - pillow, it was a pillow, but his foot was sticking out into air, and no matter how he kicked it, he couldn't seem to find the edge of the bed. He tried to growl and mostly failed, because he wasn't a wolf any more.

Full moon had apparently not gone according to plan. Instead of being curled on a mattress in a securely locked storage room, he was sprawled out sideways over Geno's enormous bed. Geno himself was fast asleep, head on a pillow and wrapped up in the sheets. 

Sid was naked, because wolves don't have to wear pants, which was honestly pretty great. Having your junk flapping in the wind was unexpectedly amazing.

But he hadn't been supposed to have anything flapping in the wind. Last night was an assortment of confusing images - there had definitely been the storage room, but there had also been chill night air and the moon hanging over him like a huge canopy. He'd sung to the moon, and listened hopefully for his pack, but all he'd heard were the alarmed cries of dogs, and he'd been so, so lonely.

He shuffled around on the bed until he could push his shoulder against Geno's, feeling warm skin and the slow pulse of blood, the sticky scent of Geno's sleep-sweat in his nose. Geno's sweat might be the most familiar scent in the world, after ice and stick tape. Sleep sweat, workout sweat, game sweat. Florida sweat, nervous sweat, sickness sweat. Fresh sweat and stale sweat and the ancient stinking sweat buried in his pads and skates. Every breathe Sid took filled the empty, lonely space inside him. Wolves weren't meant to be alone any more than people were.

Geno looked exhausted, probably from dealing with Sidney-the-Wolf. Even sleeping, there were purple shadows under his eyes and his skin was pallid except for his reddened nose and blotchy neck. Sid's heart ached, sharp and terribly fond; some of the moments they'd been closest, Geno had looked exactly this awful and exhausted. Wins and losses and grinding stretches of hard play, injuries and rehab and saying goodbye at the end of long seasons. 

Sid wanted to curl around him and put his mouth on the shadows, guard his sleep until he had a healthy colour again. He didn't have that right, though, so he slipped out of the bed and stole some shorts and a t-shirt before going downstairs to look for breakfast.

The place looked exactly like a large wolf had been having a wonderful time. Sid would feel guilty if he hadn't been sure Geno had egged him on; if he were lucky, Geno's Instagram wasn't currently clocking up likes on a selfie with a werewolf. He put the coffee on, and began straightening up. At least his wolf-self was housetrained, even if quite a few expensive items looked gnawed on. 

Geno didn't sleep much longer, staggering down the stairs and making a beeline for the coffee. 

"Hi," Sid said after he'd watched Geno suck down half a dozen swallows of scalding coffee. "So, uh, what happened?"

"Don't remember?" Geno's voice was scratchy and even deeper in the mornings, his lips and eyes puffy with sleep. He smiled, and Sid smiled back like he did every time. "You run away."

"I remember the moon," Sid said. It had been enormous, a beaten silver bowl, and he'd wanted to run and run and run. "I - it was cold. And the moon came down and filled the sky."

Geno cocked his head as if he didn't understand. Sid shrugged, because he didn't understand either. 

"You yell," he says, finally. "Outside door, and I think it can't be you, but I know it's you. And you're friend, not wild like they say."

"I knew it," Sid said. _Scientific_ learning said werewolves were wild if not frenzied animals on the full moon. The three werewolves Sid had personally talked to said that was bullshit. But letting Sid roam free violated the team's insurance, or some such crap. So he'd agreed to be locked up. And then, apparently, broken out. "I, uh. Didn't bite anyone, did I?"

"No, you open window with paw, bite through screen. I call rink when you eating all my steak." He grinned, mischievous. "So much panic, Sid. So much. They think you go on highway, hit by truck."

"Like I'd go on the highway," Sid scoffed. "All I wanted was to run."

"Came here, though." Geno turned to refill his coffee cup, and Sid eyed his back. Something had sounded a little off in his tone.

"I didn't want to run alone," he said. "I mean, duh. Do you really think I'm a lone wolf?" Geno's shoulders hitched with laughter. "I guess you didn't want to go for a midnight jog, though?"

"I try play fetch, but you don't like," Geno said, turning back. "But you like tug of war, and we wrestle a bit, and then I'm shoot pucks and you're goalie."

"Sounds about right," Sid said. It was still a shattered mess of memories, but his teeth remembered the yield of rubber, marble tiles skidding under his claws. "Thanks, G. Hope it wasn't too much of a nuisance."

"Always nuisance, but I'm deal," and Geno sighed, long and put-upon. His eyes were sparkling, and Sid wanted to tuck his face in the warm hollow of his shoulder. He thought he'd done that as a wolf, and he felt foolishly jealous of his other self, who could barge into Geno's home and demand attention and play and hugs. "Next month?"

"I don't know," Sid crossed the kitchen to settle next to Geno, leaned til their shoulders touched. "I guess they'll lock me in a room without a window, next time. Maybe if I can't see the moon..." It was a lie. He could feel the moon under his skin even now, the receding tide of it. It was altogether more comfortable a feeling than the anticipation that had silvered his nerves the last two days.

"Isn't fair," Geno said, mouth turning down. "You don't like alone."

"I hate it," Sid agreed readily. If Geno offered to let him stay next full moon - "I was so lonely, G, it was the worst. I sang to the moon and no one was there."

"You sing worst," Geno said, and Sid elbowed him. Gently, though, because it was quite true. "Is stupid werewolves, here. You're not eat anyone."

"No, gross." Sid wrinkled his nose. "Do they have werewolves in Russia? I mean, werewolf stories. Do they not eat people?"

Geno turned to drop his cup in the sink, and then turned off the coffee maker. He was silent for a while, and Sid waited, patiently, for him to get his words in order.

"In Russia, werewolves not bite," he said finally. "So I guess America get that one righter. Russia, we say that werewolves make angry... mm, hell? Like, bad spirit..." he made a vague gesture that could have meant anything. "Anyway, spirit is angry, he turns man into wolf. So is not bite."

"And then what do they do?" Sid prompted. Geno yawned, long and unnecessarily loud. "Geno?"

"I'm shower," Geno decided. "No more story now, I'm gross." His mouth set stubbornly, and Sid sighed and followed him upstairs to receive a guest towel and retreat to one of the guest showers.

Geno always took forever in the shower, though, and Sid hurried through his and went back to Geno's bedroom to borrow his phone. He'd seen Geno unlock it a hundred times, and he mimicked the motion and then opened the browser. 

It wasn't like he'd brought his own phone with him when he broke out, after all. 

He started a Google search, and was faintly insulted on behalf of his... species, or whatever, when he mostly got answers about a Russian serial killer called The Werewolf, who wasn't actually a werewolf. A little bit of fiddling with his search terms got him Russian werewolves, but there were a whole bunch of different stories. Probably because Russia was so big. 

The idea of being a hound of God, going down to hell to fight the devil, sounded pretty cool but not very plausible. Still, it was better than having bristles under his tongue, or eyebrows that met in the middle. If that one were true, there were quite a few werewolves in the NHL.

He was still smiling at the thought when he found the story Geno had told him. It wasn't very exciting; the cursed werewolves weren't vicious, and would go to their friends or families who would recognise them and care for them, and the wolf would lick their hands out of love.

The taste of Geno's skin, his hockey callouses dragging against Sid's tongue.

"Leave phone alone," Geno ordered, plucking it out of his hand. "Nosy, worst."

"I just wanted to," Sid swallowed. It was unfair, to have to say this while Geno had a towel wrapped low on his hips, water sheening his pale skin. "Sorry if I made it weird? Wolves don't have a lot of... social tact, I guess." Geno's back was to the window, surrounding him with light, just like he'd been lit by the kitchen light when he'd opened the door to Sid. He'd heard Sid howling at his door, and he'd _known_. He'd crouched down and let Sid lick his hands, murmured to him in Russian and scruffed his ears like he was a big, friendly dog. Not a shiver of fear in his scent, his manner. 

"How is weird?" Geno said, his face in shadow. Sid squinted against the light, trying to scent his mood. Was that intrusive? It didn't matter, anyway, because unless someone was sweating out their fear, his nose didn't help much. "We're team, of course."

"Yes," Sid said, because that was true. But there were dozens of his team in Pittsburgh, and as many as a dozen people he considered family, and here he was in Geno's house. He'd known he felt a lot, about Geno, but not quite that much. "But you're more than team to me, you know. I mean - in the way that would make it weird. That I woke up in your bed."

Geno was quiet long enough for Sid's heartbeat to start echoing in his ears; and then he sat down on the bed next to Sid, rubbing one hand over his face. 

"Sid, is just werewolf thing, maybe," he said. "Everything different, you upset, you come to friend. Doesn't have to be a thing."

"Is the rest true?" Sid said, tapping the screen of the phone, and Geno gives him a sideways look. "About the werewolf not being able to stay in one place. It said he has to go about from house to house, looking for food and companionship."

"You have lots houses to go to." Geno put the phone on his nightstand. "You never run out of friends."

"But it's lonely. Out there on my own." There was another long silence, and Sid thought that might be a good sign. Geno hadn't gotten to his feet, he hadn't walked away, he hadn't said _no, Sid, it's not ever going to be weird between you and me_. "I am a werewolf, so." Geno gave him a faintly incredulous look, and Sid hurried to add, "I mean you can't just say, oh, it's a werewolf thing. I am a werewolf. If I have a werewolf thing, it's a me thing. If I have a werewolf thing where I come to you and lick your hands because I love you, it's a me thing too."

Geno turned and looked at him at that. He still looked tired, his eyes even sleepier than usual, his mouth set in the slight pout that made Sid want to give him everything his heart desired. Given the slightest encouragement, Sid would sing underneath his window like he was the moon. 

"You should get some sleep," Sid said, because right now Geno clearly wanted sleep, not Sid being an idiot at him. "We can talk later, maybe." He started to get up, but Geno grabbed his wrist before he could do more than shift his weight. "G?"

"Stay," Geno said, and his cheeks flushed blotchy pink, like they did after a hard shift. "You come to _me_. You have whole city, whole team, and you come to me. I don't go to sleep, I stay awake and think of you, and then you come and you lick hands and I think about story." He shrugged. "I know is just story, but - I can't help feel it's true."

"That bit is definitely true," Sid assured him, breathless, and he picks up Geno's hand. He almost licked it, but that would probably be weird, so he pressed it over his heart instead. "Geno."

"Stay," Geno insisted, like Sid needed any persuading, and he nudged Sid until they spilled over onto the mess of the bed. Sid tucked his nose into the hollow he'd been eyeing earlier, now smelling mostly of water, and hummed happily into Geno's skin. One big hand curled around Sid's waist, and the other still rested over his heart.

"I'll stay," Sid said. He might be a werewolf now, but he was still Sidney Crosby. You wouldn't catch him wandering from house to house, searching for love, when he had a perfectly good love asking him to stay. "I'll stay."


End file.
